Overrated
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: Take control. You will feel better.


Title: Over-rated

Author: ScullyAsTrinity

Category: Major angst/romance.

Rating: PG-13, because I don't go into too much detail. Not TOO too much.

Disclaimer: Oh the things I would do to Bradley Whitford if I-... I don't own em. :grumble:

Notes: Well, it's playoff time, and as a lifelong resident of Boston, you know what's coming... **GO RED SOX!** Hmmm, I'm in such a good mood maybe I'll punch out another few fics. Oh, and this isn't a song fic, no lyrics from the song in it, though I have the lyrics at the end. I wrote this after my seventh Gavin concert (front row woot!) the other night. I thought of this while he was singing 'Just Friends' but found this song to be more appropriate.

Summary: Take it, take control. You will feel better, you will feel whole.

Take it, take control. You will feel better, you will feel whole.

She did take control. She grabbed his collar and pulled him forward, forcefully into her office.

"Day of jubilee..." She trailed off, under her breath, just loud enough for him to decipher.

For a moment, he was confused and surprised, not knowing what to say. His body was like a string, the top half of him flying straight in and the bottom half dragging haphazardly behind. Completely taken off guard, he was sure that she was undoubtedly pissed at him. So, while his brain attempted to play catch up with all the things that had happened in the day, his face took on a mask of surprise, one that she was happy to find in place.

"How many people are out there?" She asked, moving around quickly, a completely out of place smile plastered on her lips. She turned back to him for a second, her hair whipping around making her look wild and elusive. When he didn't respond in that split second she scoffed and turned back to her blinds, twisting them closed.

"CJ, I-"

"No, just, hang on." CJ chided, her grin widening, the blinds shutting, the light dimming from her efforts. Once she had shut the blinds, and turned CNN up all the way, she turned back to him, her skirt wrinkled, hair completely wild. He had never wanted her more. But he knew, just as she did, that they were in the absolute one place that they couldn't let anything happen in. He guessed that that was what made her act so feral.

"Not here CJ, just wait until we get back-"

But she laughed instead, throwing her head back in an attempt to get him to stop. It didn't work.

"No, CJ, not here, we can be back at my-"

"Toby, now." And that was the last word that she spoke to him before they touched. Her arms snaked out to wind around his neck and he found that then, when her skin touched his, he lost all sense of time and speech, and leaned into her, quicker than he meant to.

"I hate you." Toby said, good naturedly, earning him a grin from the woman standing across from him.

"Oh, you know you love me." She said, just before her lips crushed his. And they did crush, it was forceful and weighty and nothing more but a kiss. Both of them wanted it to be more, but knew it couldn't be, they didn't have enough time.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pull at what he had left. Somehow, it didn't hurt, even when she raked her nails down his scalp in an attempt to do so. It didn't hurt, because all he could feel was her, pressing close to her, wanting so much more than either of them really had.

Her hands reached around his neck and pulled the tie from it harshly. He wanted to cringe, but held it back. He never showed emotion, he tried not to. CJ threw the scrap of silk to the floor without so much as a look and he though for a moment how much the color of the garment resembled blood, the blood that his heart was pumping then, at an incredible rate.

His brow, formerly cool and clammy, broke out in sheen of sweat that CJ immediately detected, sending her body temperature up another notch. Her throat wanted to emit a moan but her mind would not let her. It could not be about her wanting, it couldn't be about the two of them together. It always had to be about the two of them being a separate entity though she could feel how much he wanted it to be more.

She could feel it in how careful he was with her body. How he always knew when the precise moment was to meet her eyes to see her come.

As his lips traced her collarbone she wished that she could call out his name, but that was never how it was. They were silent, the only sounds, a strangled sigh coming from her, a stolen moan coming from him. It was never anything more, anything substantial.

And as the clothes fell, as the kissing rained down upon her hot and smooth skin, she thought of all that could be, all that might be. So she closed her eyes and sighed, feeling his beard pricking her skin. Long ago, when it all had begun, she had fought the desire to laugh when the hairs touched her young and sensitive skin. She remembered the sex on the beach, in front of the California house, remembered the night they met, doused in rain, drinking cheap liquor and smoking menthols. She remembers the scrape of his beard then, and him apologizing for the pain.

Then somehow, in the midst of it all, her blouse was gone, his lips kissing in between her breasts.

And then, in the haze of the moment he spoke. "This can't be happening." She nearly missed it, but was looking down when he said it, saw the smoky look in his eyes.

He dipped down, caressed her stomach and they both tumbled into submission.

It was fast, quicker than usual. His mouth having no time to explore the familiar yet foreign curves of her body. For some reason, he could not taste enough of her, couldn't take in as much as he needed to.

So when it was over, he felt lacking, left behind somehow. His eyes, sad and forlorn, searched the floor for his tie.

"CJ I-"

"You love Andi." She said, straightening the wrinkles in her blouse and feeling very much a whole person.

"No. No, I love the idea of Andi." He mimicked her movement, straightening out the severe line of his tie, and pulling the hair of his beard back into neatness.

"The idea?" CJ asked him, reaching for her blazer and pulling it securely over her shoulders, refusing to make eye contact with him, not wanting to make the moment more than she thought that it should be.

"She's an idea... an abstract. You're-"

And there was a knock on the door. Josh needed Toby. The president needed Toby. They all needed him, so he left, with a sorrowful smile, a promise to call her to make sure she made it home safely.

They all needed him. But he refused to think that he was leaving the person that needed him most.

End


End file.
